MASLACK: He was a mountain of muscle, a hulking silhouette against the sun. He wore
a chaotic mix of armor: the skull of The Punoon was spray-painted crudely on a
tactical vest, but twisted, Kratos-style facial tattoos were visible around his eyes,
and a tattered, living-looking cloak-a cheap imitation of Spawn's-writhed
around his shoulders. A black ferret mask covered the lower half of his face, hiding
what Chud knew was a "brown, dysgenic" visage, as the Sharty lore described him.
In his hands, he held not a gun or a blade, but a massive, glowing chain, its links
etched with what looked like Arabic script.

MASLACK: "YOU STOP, NAZI-SCUM!" Warrior-Z's voice boomed, distorted by the
mask and his own fervor. "YOU COME TO HOLY LAND? ALLAH SENT ME! I
AM KRATOS! I AM THE PUnoon! I AM HIS SPAWN! PREPARE TO
LOSE!"
Chud halted, hovering. A cold smirk played on his lips. "Allah sent you? He
sent a larper? A mutt from Iceland who dresses like a toy box vomited on him?"
"DO NOT MOCK MY FAITH! ISLAM WON! WARRIOR-Z WON! I
WILL SEND YOU TO HELL!"

MASLACK: With a roar, Warrior-Z lunged. His speed was shocking. He wasn't flying
with grace like Chud; he was propelling himself through the air with pure, rage-
fueled force. He swung the chain. It wasn't just metal; it was a psychic weapon.
With each crack, it didn't just seek to bind Chud's body, but his mind, projecting
waves of guilt, shame, and dogmatic certainty.
Chud blocked with his forearms, the impact ringing like a bell. He was
driven back. He's strong, Chud thought, gritting his teeth. Stronger than he should
be.

MASLACK: With a roar, Warrior-Z lunged. His speed was shocking. He wasn't flying
with grace like Chud; he was propelling himself through the air with pure, rage-
fueled force. He swung the chain. It wasn't just metal; it was a psychic weapon.
With each crack, it didn't just seek to bind Chud's body, but his mind, projecting
waves of guilt, shame, and dogmatic certainty.
Chud blocked with his forearms, the impact ringing like a bell. He was
driven back. He's strong, Chud thought, gritting his teeth. Stronger than he should
be.

toniylijani: who the fuck is bro erping with

MASLACK: "This is not real power!" Chud yelled, deflecting another blow that sent a
shockwave through the atmosphere. "This is a cope! A fantasy you cling to
because your own genetics are too weak to stand on their own!"
"YOU ARE THE WEAK! YOU HAVE NO GOD! YOU HAVE ONLY
HATE!" Warrior-Z bellowed, his attacks a chaotic mix of styles-a brutal, Spartan
kick followed by a precise, punishing strike to a pressure point.

MASLACK: @toniylijani: it's my gemmy chud comics fanfiction

MASLACK: Chud was on the defensive. This was the problem with the "degenerate."
They were unpredictable. Illogical. Their power didn't come from purity of blood
or purpose, but from a frantic, desperate fanaticism. Warrior-Z truly believed he
was a divine amalgamation of comic book characters, and that belief, however
insane, granted him very real, tangible might.
The chain wrapped around Chud's leg, and searing psychic pain shot through
him-images of submission, of kneeling in prayer, of accepting a destiny not his
own.

MASLACK: "SEE? ALLAH'S POWER! I AM THE PUnoon OF SINNERS LIKE
YOU! LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!" Warrior-Z screamed, spamming his
victory cry.
For a moment, Chud faltered. This was more than he had bargained for.
Then, he heard VATER's (failed painter from Austria's) voice in his mind, cold and clear. "His power is a
lie. A patchwork stolen from others. Your power is your birthright. Your biology is
your truth. Assert it."

MASLACK: Chud's eyes snapped open. He stopped trying to fight the chaos. He focused
inward. On the purity of his own bloodline, on the unbroken chain of his gemmy
ancestry. A white, psychic aura flared around him.
The chain on his leg began to smoke. The Arabic script glowed red-hot, then
shattered.
"No," Chud said, his voice now calm and terrifying. "You are not Kratos.
You are a fanboy. You are not The Punoon. You are a cosplayer. And you are
most certainly not Spawn. You are just a lost, mixed-race boy from Iceland having
a violent temper tantrum."

MASLACK: He grabbed the chain and, with a surge of his true power, yanked Warrior-Z
toward him.
The force was absolute. Warrior-Z's eyes widened in shock behind his mask
as he was pulled helplessly forward. Chud's fist, glowing with psychic energy, met
his stomach.
It wasn't just a physical blow. It was a blast of ideological certainty. A wave
of pure, gemmy, racial and intellectual clarity that mindbroke Warrior-Z's borrowed,
fractured identity.

MASLACK: The larped personas shattered. The Punoon's skull on his vest cracked. The
Spawn-cloak dissolved into black mist. The Kratos tattoos faded. The ferret mask
tore, revealing the face beneath-not a monster, but a confused, pained young
man.
Warrior-Z gasped, all the fight gone out of him, and began to fall from the
sky.

MASLACK: Chud hovered, watching him plummet before catching him effortlessly. He
hadn't come to kill this pawn. He had come to break his symbol.
"Your Allah did not save you," Chud said to the unconscious foe. "And he
will not save your cube."
He let Warrior-Z's body fall to the desert sand below, a message to any who
would find him. Then, he turned back toward Mecca, his power now humming at a
higher frequency. The first major obstacle was cleared. The path to liberation was open.

Vcurviony: @MASLACK: take your meds

loot: @MASLACK: dont take your meds

MASLACK: @loot: tsmt, autism is my superpower

Black_Watch: Warrior Z solos

MASLACK: @Black_Watch: he is fucking not AND it's just a general description and not a whole thing. but after this encounter... when no one expects... his wrath will come back, the man who has nothing to lose, the last muslim. BUT HE WILL STILL BE VANQUISHED

Awardsan: @MASLACK: >writing autistic fanfiction about nameflamboyant persons

MASLACK: @Awardsan: it's just one part about a religious foe for chud, it's not about nameflamboyant persons

NemanjaVidih: Gemmy